


baby play that song (no not that fucking one)

by thescyfychannel



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Arguing, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, Painting, Parenthood, Terrible Taste in Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22254406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescyfychannel/pseuds/thescyfychannel
Summary: Everyone knows that secrets come out in the half past midnight carpool, but not everyone knows that they also come out in the carpool where one of your husbands is injured via paint can and everyone's a little bit freaking out a little bit and you're not going to be the one to mention that all three of you are getting that special mix of Fairy Tale Blue, Serenity, and Caribbean Mist thatoneof your husbands (the other one) had insisted on for the baby's room all over the seats.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Polyswap Winter Promptfest - Dusk Edition





	baby play that song (no not that fucking one)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Lizardlicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks) in the [Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Polyswap_Winter_Promptfest_Dusk_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Eridavekat and babies. Making them? Planning for them? Expecting them? NAMING THEM!? Grubs? Weird ecto babies? Mixed adoption?
> 
> It's all good, I just wanna see wacky co parenting hijinks.

Karkat bursts into tears halfway through painting the nursery and you're a split second from cracking a joke about "sympathetic pregnancies" (you'd already sent a mentally apology to the poor surrogate who has to put up with all _three_ of you on the regular) when you realize it's because he's dropped a paint can right on his foot.

Eridan leaps into action as your dumb ass stands there, staring at your crying and partially broken husband, and you'd be lying if you said the goddamn bridal carry your other husband immediately scoops Karkat up into doesn't still do it for you.

The "still" is important here, because there have been a lot of late nights, a lot of driving back and forth (said surrogate had _absolutely_ refused to move out of her home, but there were only four brain cells to go around between the three of you and at least three of them were dedicated to near constant worry), a lot of bickering about what exactly you're going to do, and the sex has been...a little thin on the ground, since you found out the pregnancy was going through.

You can think about that later, though. More important things.

"I don't _need_ to go to the hospital, Ampora, now put me down or so help me—"

"Kar," Eridan says, and he's got that patient look on, the one you'd seen him use with little kids on playgrounds previously, the one that you're pretty sure is what got Karkat making those speculative looks that had ended up with a declaration of _I think we should look into having a baby_ , the one that sometimes fooled the both of you, you and Karkat, into thinking that Eridan wasn't _completely_ a gorgeous bisexual disaster. "Neither a us need you in pain. And you know who especially doesn't need you in pain?"

(you'd once called it his DILF-to-be look and Karkat had shoved you right out of bed.)

Karkat looks defeated. You would too, that's dirty fucking pool that Ampora's playing right there. "The baby?"

"The baby," Eridan confirms, and hitches Karkat up a little bit higher. "Dave, you're drivin."

So, you're driving. At least this means you get to pick the music.

* * *

You do not, in fact, get to pick the music.

An injured and unhappy Karkat does, as Eridan keeps his foot elevated, the both of them crammed into the backseat of the car you'd recently bought ("It has the best safety rating on the market, David Elizabeth Strider, I don't _care_ if it doesn't match the colour of your eyes!") and semi-refusing to speak to each other.

 _Okay,_ you mentally decide, _this is it._

Out loud, you are less good at this: "We need to get our shit together before we turn into a disaster tornado. You know. For the baby."

Eridan's forehead does that adorable crinkly thing it does sometimes. "...you think we're gonna turn into a disaster tornado for the baby?"

"No, uh," you say, then try not to wince. Karkat looks like he might cry again. "I think we're gonna be a disaster tornado for other reasons, when the baby comes. But we're also like...a disaster windstorm right _now_ , so either we get that sorted out or we're screwed. I know twisters. I'm from Texas."

Both of them groan, the exact way you knew they would, and some of the worry in your heart eases. If you can get them like that, things _can't_ be as dire as they once seemed.

Or maybe they are, because the silence that follows reigns in the car a lot longer than you thought it would last. Words do not rise up from either of your baes like the common folk driven to revolt by the rule of a cruel and tyrannical Lord of Noiselessness, and you begin to worry that you'll have to do something _again._

 _That,_ you think, _or sit here and break out into a nervous sweat._

And then Karkat comes to the rescue: "I keep freaking out. What if I fuck the kid up? If I can't even paint a goddamn nursery without an ER visit, how the hell am I going to be able to help them with college-level calculus and their advanced tap class?"

You've got fucking amazing comedic timing: When you look up at the rearview mirror, Eridan is staring at you with a look on his face that matches the one you're wearing. You'd title it, _Reflections: Karkat Vantas are you fuckin kiddin me_ or something similarly pretentious.

"Karkat," you say, attempting to mimic Eridan's previous tone, "how long have you been worried about this?"

Part of you thinks you might have gotten the tone right, because the both of them sit upright in a way that makes your brain go _A_ **ha** and when Karkat speaks next, there's a little hint of something (that might, depending on how good his pain meds are, hint at a little something something) in it: "Since we got the call."

"Kar, our baby's the size of a melon right now!" Eridan's looking fond and exasperated all at once. You call it expression 36, based on frequency of usage. "A half grown one, not a watermelon, don't you start. We'll have time to worry about AP Calc later, an also, I thought we were goin to suggest ballet? For better coordination, I know a lot a football players and ice skaters use it—"

"Our baby is _not_ playing football!"

"I was actually thinkin hockey? Did you watch that [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3-L3YwU-iQ) I sent you—"

"HOCKEY IS EVEN WORSE."

You let them go at it for a few minutes, almost _relieved_ to hear that much fire and passion between the two of them, before you cut in with: "Also, even if we do fuck the kid up, we won't be alone for that." They pause their argument to look over at you, and you grin. "I've got both of you, and Karkat has you and me, Eridan, and Eridan, you've got me and Karkat. We're in this together, and we're going to be _fine_." You pause, thinking of some of the more ridiculous noodle incidents the three of you have gotten yourselves into. "Well. Mostly fine, and when we're not, we'll be together to work it out."

Karkat looks like he's about to start sniffling again, and Eridan's right there with him, and you don't think you're legally allowed to drive a car while sobbing so _instead_ you put on what you'd once lovingly declared to be "our song", a piece you'd theoretically composed for the loves of your life: "Worst Remix Ever: All Those Songs You Hate".

You're _much_ better at driving while laughing and dodging projectiles than you are at driving while crying. Also? They don't stop smiling, and that's the biggest fucking plus.


End file.
